


Too Hot (Hot Damn)

by mostlymormor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drugs, Hot Weather, M/M, although they're taken accidentally, grouchy murder husbands, you decide whether or not they're in a relationship here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4622874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlymormor/pseuds/mostlymormor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm not sorry for the title.</p><p>Prompt from Anonymous on tumblr</p><p>"Jim accidentally gets drugged in a business meeting and Sebastian has to take him home and sort him out"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Hot (Hot Damn)

It was hot outside. Far too hot for England anyway. And it didn’t help that Sebastian was still forced to wear a full suit for his bodyguard jobs. ‘It pays to look professional’, Jim would say. 

It was even hotter inside, with the dark blue and grey interiors absorbing all the heat that shone through the glass walls. Sebastian was desperately hoping the building would have air con, but it didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

“This meeting better go fucking smoothly.” Sebastian muttered, walking a short distance behind Jim down the corridors of the office building. He needed to get back to their apartment. Back to ice cold beer, a place where he was allowed to take his shirt off, and blissful, blissful air con.

“It’ll go as smoothly as it goes, Moran. Whining won’t make it go any better, or make the weather get any cooler.” Jim snapped, heat making him grouchy. Or that was Sebastian’s guess anyway, he looked even more ready to kill a man than usual.

They reached their room, ten minutes early as usual, to make sure they were there first. The routine was the same. Jim sat down, unbuttoned his jacket, and watched Sebastian as his bodyguard searched the room for bugs, explosives, or anything else suspicious. He found none of those, but he did find;

“Air conditioning!” He gleefully called out, rushing over to the box in the corner. It wasn’t blowing out any cold air. And as he looked for the on switch, he found something dreadful. A neatly written post-it note, declaring ‘out of order’.

“Fuck this stupid place.” Sebastian muttered, giving the air con unit a good kick, and going to stand in his usual place, behind Jim, facing the door.

They were meeting with a man named Neil Stanford, who ran a weapons manufacturing operation. He wanted a deal with Moriarty. He’d provide weapons at a lowered price, in return for a number of murders in exchange. He’d given no more details than that, and insisted to see the boss himself. Unusually, Jim had agreed. Apparently Stanford had ‘interested’ him.

When Stanford walked through the door - five minutes late, Sebastian noted - he seemed distinctly  _un_ interesting. Middle aged, balding, going grey... boring. Sebastian hated him, simply for making them meet in this stupid room, which only felt like it had gotten hotter and hotter for every second the guy was late.

“Sorry.” Stanford apologised, very insincerely. “I stopped off to grab a bottle of water. It’s just too hot... Would you like one? For you and your guard to share.”

Upon seeing the second bottle of water produced from the man’s shopping bag, Jim looked a little less like he was about to murder Stanford.

“Please.” Jim said flatly, and the bottle was rolled over to him. He twisted the cap off, and it wasn’t until Jim had downed half the bottle (who could blame him in this heat) that Sebastian realised something wasn’t right. 

He never heard the seal break. Which meant the drink had been opened before. It’d been tampered with. 

Sebastian pulled his gun on Stanford and flicked the safety off, Jim stopping his drinking to look up at his bodyguard in confusion.

“What’s in his water?” Sebastian questioned Stanford, glaring.

“What are you-?” Stanford tried, but Sebastian wasn’t having any of it.

“ _What’s in his fucking water?!”_

Stanford sighed heavily, watching Jim as he began to blink slower, frowning at the bottle in almost confusion.

“Just a sedative.” Stanford said flatly. “I was relying on him letting you have some.”

The bullet hit it’s mark between Stanford’s eyes with little pause for thought. Not that he needed any, the fucker had drugged his boss.

“Yeah. Fuck him...” Jim murmured, then promptly put his head on the table, and passed out.

Sebastian cursed under his breath, looking between the dead man on one side of the table, and his unconscious boss on the other.

First he called clean up team, put them in charge of Stanford’s body. Then he sighed at the sight of Jim, still asleep, of course. Concluding there was nothing else for it, he picked his boss up in a fireman’s lift, and carried him out.

It was  _definitely_  too hot for that. The extra exertion, plus Jim’s body heat against him, made him feel about ready to die. Surely hell would be cooler. But he persevered, and carried Jim out of the office, glaring at anyone who looked their way.

As soon as he’d put Jim down gently in the car, he pulled off his jacket and tie, rolled his sleeves up, untucked his shirt and undid the top two buttons. Just that was so much of a relief, but as soon as he got in the driver's seat the air con also went on full. There were some benefits to an unconscious boss after all.

He took his time on the drive home. He relished the fact that he was out of the heat. Anyway, Jim was only unconscious, rushing would hardly do them any good.

Lugging Jim’s deadweight up the stairs to their apartment was a nightmare, and one he was glad to have over once he reached the penthouse. Immediately after laying Jim on his bed, the air conditioning went on, and he drank several glasses of nice cold water.

Sebastian sat by the edge of Jim’s bed for the next few hours. Just in case, of course. He checked pulse and breathing every few minutes, made sure he wasn’t getting too warm. 

It was three long hours later, that Jim finally woke up. Sebastian saw him shift slightly, and then frown, and then finally open his eyes, looking right at his sniper.

“...You let me get drugged.” Was the first thing he said.

“To be fair you weren’t being very ca-”

“You let me get drugged, Moran.” Jim said, even less impressed. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t force feed you your own kidneys.”

“...Because then you wouldn’t have anyone to make you dinner while you relax in bed...?”

“...You can live.” Jim concluded, rolling over and closing his eyes again. “Just as long as you make steak.”


End file.
